<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>grand canyon by bastigod</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686900">grand canyon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastigod/pseuds/bastigod'>bastigod</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Confessions, Getting Together, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Time Skip, Reunions, Unresolved Romantic Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:09:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastigod/pseuds/bastigod</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Why don’t we get outta here?”</p>
  <p>"Get outta here." Osamu parroted. "You 'n' me?"</p>
  <p>“Did I stutter?”</p>
</blockquote>Suna and Osamu rekindle a lost friendship. And perhaps something more.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>261</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SunaOsa</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>grand canyon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Additional CW<br/>- Cigarette and Alcohol use<br/>- Implied sexual content</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Down the hallway! Keep goin’ ‘til ya get to the end!”</p><p> </p><p>Suna winced as Atsumu shouted over the cacophony of volleyball players clogging the normally peaceful Onigiri Miya. He artfully dodged Tomas chatting with Barnes and just barely avoided knocking Sarukui-kun’s mug of Super Dry down the front of his track jacket.</p><p> </p><p>He’d never been one for parties — especially ones celebrating someone else’s victory. The thrum of music and the stench of sweaty men burrowed a sharp pain into his skull.</p><p> </p><p>He needed a break. Fresh air.</p><p> </p><p>Suna found the back door — tucked around the corner — and pushed. The door swung partially open before ramming into something hard. Talk about a fucking fire hazard.</p><p> </p><p>Sucking in his guts as best as a professional athlete could manage, Suna slid through the tiny space between the door and the vending machine next to it. The door slid open further, accompanied by a scrape. </p><p> </p><p>Was this actually the exit or was Atsumu just trying to kill him?</p><p> </p><p>Wouldn’t be the first time.</p><p> </p><p>His nose was accosted with an acrid smell as his feet hit a metal step then the sidewalk. So much for fresh air.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” A familiar voice.</p><p> </p><p>He turned to see Osamu sitting on the back stoop of Onigiri Miya, leaning on his elbows with his legs stretched out oh-so-casually. A cigarette — now the obvious source of the horrific smell — was tucked between two fingers. Beside him lay a cinder block, perhaps the worst door stop in the history of mankind.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck, Osamu?” </p><p> </p><p>Osamu took a drag of the cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke and flicked away ashes. His night-darkened eyes stared at him, droopy and unamused. “Hello to you too, Suna.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Suna groaned, taking a seat on the step next to him. “Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>It was quiet for a long while, just the occasional inhale-exhale of smoke and the rumble of a car. Being around Osamu was always strange. Other people sought to fill silences with conversation — whether charismatic or horrifically awkward. But never Osamu.</p><p> </p><p>He was perfectly content being silent.</p><p> </p><p>Suna always admired that about him.</p><p> </p><p>They weren’t close. Not anymore, at least. As teammates, they were always together. Osamu was a person for Suna to enjoy some peace and quiet around, far away from their obnoxious teammates. And to Osamu, Suna was a momentary escape from the endless hell that being the twin brother of Miya Atsumu must entail.</p><p> </p><p>Things changed at the end of high school.</p><p> </p><p>“If ya really mus’ know.” Osamu was exhausted — his eyes rimmed with a hazy purple and his voice slurred more than usual. “It’s t’stop th’ door from whackin’ me on my break. Don’ need Tsumu givin’ me another concussion.”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Another’?” Suna’s brows raised. “Actually, nevermind. Not gonna ask. Don’t care.”</p><p> </p><p>Osamu snorted as he slid the cigarette between his lips. In the corner of Suna’s vision, he saw Osamu’s eyes drift closed as he inhaled.</p><p> </p><p>He’s always been pretty. Thick eyelashes that their female classmates were envious of back in the day. Smooth skin interrupted only by a smattering of moles, sun freckles and a scar on his jawline. A rare full smile that was crooked and terribly charming. </p><p> </p><p>At least, that’s what the girls always said at school. Not that Suna would know if Osamu was pretty or not. Not at all.</p><p> </p><p>Suna reached over and plucked the cigarette from Osamu’s mouth, startling him. Those exhausted grey eyes grew wide as he exhaled smoke. “Smoking’s bad for your health.”</p><p> </p><p>Osamu rolled his eyes. "Save me the lecture. Tsumu's already given me a hard time 'bout it."</p><p> </p><p>"Guessing he told you to quit, right?" Suna popped the cigarette between his lips and took a drag. The acrid smoke pooled in his mouth before he exhaled.</p><p> </p><p>He glanced over to see Osamu watching him, mouth hanging open slightly. Suna smiled, flicked the ash away and passed the cigarette back to Osamu. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I actually did." Osamu sighed, dropping the cigarette to the ground and grinding it with the heel of his sneaker. "But it's been a stressful day."</p><p> </p><p>Suna leaned back to mirror Osamu — legs stretched out and upper body resting on his elbows. "Good thing Kita-san isn't here."</p><p> </p><p>Osamu laughed — a mix between a scoff and a huff. "Ya have no idea. He's almost caught me a few times. Never been a god fearin' man but Kita is somethin' else."</p><p> </p><p>Silence again.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu’s eyes drifted shut, body going still. He absentmindedly fiddled with the lid of his box of cigarettes, thumb flicking up, down, up, down. How long will it be until he gives in to the temptation and plucks another one out?</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” Suna nudged Osamu’s foot with his own. Grey eyes opened slowly, blinking at him lethargically. “Why don’t we get outta here?”</p><p> </p><p>"Get outta here." Osamu parroted. "You 'n' me?"</p><p> </p><p>“Did I stutter?” Suna rose to his feet, trying to not groan at the dull pain in his legs. He outstretched his hand. Osamu stared at him for a long moment before latching on and allowing himself to get hauled upwards.</p><p> </p><p>He's heavy, much more so than he'd been back in high school. Suna's hit with the terrible image of Osamu on his lap, eyes infinitely more alert as they drift down to his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he's had a little too much to drink.</p><p> </p><p>All the more reason to go on a walk. Clear his head. </p><p> </p><p>"Where we goin'?" Osamu brushed non-existent dirt off his ass. His very nice…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Rintarou. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"You're the local." Suna shrugged, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. </p><p> </p><p>Osamu sighed before letting out a half-hearted groan. If he wasn't so exhausted, Suna was sure he'd be playfully shoulder-checking him and calling him an aho. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, where d'ya wanna go?" Osamu led the way across a quiet intersection. "Drinkin'? Dinner? Do ya still like billiards?"</p><p> </p><p>Suna blinked. “You remembered?”</p><p> </p><p>It was back in first year when he and Osamu hung out together outside of school for the first time. His host family were out of town on vacation, so he was stuck spending the weekend at a friend’s house.</p><p> </p><p>And, well. He didn’t have any of those. So, he ended up with the Miyas. </p><p> </p><p>They’d dragged him out to an arcade and spent an entire rainy day fucking around. Atsumu bailed before dinnertime — whisked away by a text message from Aran — and abandoned him and Osamu.</p><p> </p><p>After getting smoked in five straight rounds of billiards, Osamu bought them both ice cream. It was a fond memory — full of laughter and light-hearted bickering and bats to the shoulder. The first time Suna imagined they could be actual friends, not just teammates.</p><p> </p><p>"'Course I did." Osamu shrugged as they walked, the faintest of smiles tugging on his lips. "Can't believe you'd doubt me like that."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, my bad." Suna grinned. "But can you blame me? You always were a moron."</p><p> </p><p>A laugh. Osamu’s eyes curved closed, face pointed to the darkened sky. Suna couldn’t help but smile watching his old friend take slow and lazy steps as he sauntered. He never used to be this relaxed.</p><p> </p><p>It was a good look.</p><p> </p><p>“Still am.” Osamu side-eyed him, a faint smirk playing across his lips. “What d’ya say? Billiards, booze, or…”</p><p> </p><p>“Bentos? Burgers? Breakfast?” Suna offered.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu snapped his fingers, shooting Suna with a finger gun and stabbing him in the gut with a wink. “Barbecue!”</p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>“All three?” </p><p> </p><p>Suna’s tugged down a side street, arm gripped firmly in Osamu’s grasp. “Ya read my mind!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re suddenly so chipper.” Suna said. “You were on the verge of death about four minutes ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Osamu snorted. “Well, ya said it best yerself. Got a one track mind.”</p><p> </p><p>Another high school memory — this one just clinging to the recesses of Suna’s brain before disappearing forever.</p><p> </p><p>That’s right.</p><p> </p><p>A fight between the Miyas. He didn’t remember the ‘why’ of it all. Not that it ever really mattered — half the time they fought over the last bag of calbee chips or the futon closest to the window at training camp.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu clutched his brother’s jacket in his white-knuckled fists. A crusty splodge of blood was smeared across Atsumu’s lips. And a terribly desperate Ginjima was on the verge of snitching to Kita-san.</p><p> </p><p>Suna — somehow the only one with a functioning brain in their entire grade — made an excruciatingly loud show of opening up Osamu’s bento and crinkling the paper wrap around the homemade katsu sandwich.</p><p> </p><p>In a split second, Atsumu was dropped — groaning as his ass hit the floor of the roof — and Osamu came running like a Pavlov dog.</p><p> </p><p><em> You’ve got the worst one track mind I’ve ever fucking seen, </em>he’d mumbled as he watched Osamu munch on his sandwich — cheeks chipmunked out. </p><p> </p><p>“Getting self-aware in your old age, I see.” </p><p> </p><p>“Was bound to happen eventually.” Osamu stopped, the momentum nearly sending Suna crashing into him. Before them was a staircase leading up to several businesses. Standard fare for a commercial street: a two-story cafe, a hair salon, a manga cafe. The top floor bore the signature red and blue sign of a billiards hall. “We’re here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Y’know, Osamu.” Suna said as they climbed the stairs. “Didn’t expect this to be your kinda dive.”</p><p> </p><p>“I still fuckin’ hate pool.” Osamu glanced over his shoulder, a single eyebrow raised. “But the owner, Asano-san, cooks the best damn karaage in the neighborhood.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right. One track mind.” </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They're three rounds in — three devastating blows to Osamu's pride and three cups of cheap beer in the stomach — when Osamu's phone blared. </p><p> </p><p>The groan that escaped Osamu's throat was borderline demonic.</p><p> </p><p>"You can just ignore him, y'know?" Suna's brows raised as a shitty picture of Atsumu popped up on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>"I'd never hear the end of it." Osamu plucked it off their table.</p><p> </p><p>He answered it, flinching as Atsumu screamed in his ear. A resounding "Where the hell are ya?!" loud enough Suna could hear it.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be back in a sec." Osamu said, half-heartedly covering the receiver with his hand. “Don’t go anywhere.”</p><p> </p><p>"What the fuck Samu? Who're ya with?"</p><p> </p><p>“None ya.”</p><p> </p><p>Several long minutes passed, and Suna had finished off his beer, filled his belly with stolen karaage he was sure would come back to bite him in the ass and exhausted the timelines of three social medias.</p><p> </p><p>"Gotta take a piss." He mumbled to no one, shoving away from the bar. A silent nod to the bartender — he'll be back.</p><p> </p><p>Rounding the corner, Suna met a rush of warm air seeping into the hallway. The door to the fire escape was propped open, giving him a glimpse of Osamu draping his arms over the railing. It was entirely unfair how good his shoulders looked in that black shirt.</p><p> </p><p>"Stop fuckin' callin' me." Suna could hear the snap of Osamu's teeth as he bit out the sentence. His poor smartphone beeped pathetically as he hung up on his brother.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu managed to choke out a groan before his phone blared again. </p><p> </p><p>"I shoulda eaten ya in the fuckin' womb."</p><p> </p><p>He probably shouldn't be eavesdropping, but Suna couldn't help but listen to the bickering. It was nostalgic, almost.</p><p> </p><p>"For the last time, I ain't with Yoichi." Osamu turned to lean his back against the railing and Suna had to duck out of his sightline. "No, Tsumu. Can't ya trust me?"</p><p> </p><p>Who was Yoichi?</p><p> </p><p>"I told ya. We broke up months ago. I ain't seen him since." </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Him? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Of course, Yoichi was a man's name after all.</p><p> </p><p>Wait.</p><p> </p><p>Suna's eyes went wide. He should not have heard that.</p><p> </p><p>"No, I'm with Rin. Whadya mean? 'What Rin?' We only know one Rin, aho!" </p><p> </p><p>The door to the men's room swung open and with it, a patron with furrowed brows staring at Suna. He flashed an uneasy grin before grabbing the door handle.</p><p> </p><p>"It ain't a date. We're jus' hangin' out. No. Mind yer fuckin' business. No! I know, Tsumu."</p><p> </p><p>Go inside, Rintarou. Piece of shit.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu sighed. "Yer right. I wish it was." </p><p> </p><p>Suna scurried inside, latched the door and felt his chest race. He met his own gaze in the mirror — hair hanging in his face, red burning beneath his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p><em>'I wish it was.'</em> <em>Was what? A date?</em></p><p> </p><p>A splash of water to the face. He's fine. He is not having a bi-sis over his high school teammate. There is no war in Ba Sing Se.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu had vacated the fire escape by the time he left the bathroom. Suna found him chatting with the bartender — an easy smile on his lips and body leaning casually against the stool.</p><p> </p><p>"Thought ya ran off." Osamu grinned as Suna slid onto his barstool. </p><p> </p><p>Suna scoffed. "Who do you think I am? Your brother?"</p><p> </p><p>Osamu groaned with his entire body, shoulders slumping dramatically. "God fuckin' forbid."</p><p> </p><p>"Everything alright?" Suna waved to the bartender for another round.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, he's all bark 'n' no bite." Osamu tilted the empty basket of karaage and sent a withering look in Suna's direction. "He's got a key, he knows how to lock up."</p><p> </p><p>"Surprised you trusted him with one." Suna stole a sip of his new beer. "I remember Kita-san put me in charge of the keys before passing his captaincy to Atsumu."</p><p> </p><p>Osamu laughed. "I forgot all about that. He was pissed."</p><p> </p><p>"Yet you remember me demolishing you at pool."</p><p> </p><p>"Yer still on about that?" A knee bumped into Suna's as Osamu spun his stool seat. Suna wanted to kiss that stupid crooked smile off his lips. "It's one of my favorite memories from school."</p><p> </p><p>"I…" Suna started, not sure what to say. "Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ya were my best friend, y'know?" Another bump of the knee. "Gotta cling to the good shit before we drifted apart."</p><p> </p><p>Best friend…?</p><p> </p><p>"Seein' ya happily bite into yer ice cream — super weird habit, by the way — and yer entire face lightin' up like Christmas…" Osamu smiled into his beer, trying to hide it behind the rim. "Almost made up for my busted ego."</p><p> </p><p>As he watched the faintest red bloom over the shell of Osamu's ear, Suna decided to shelve away all his questions. For later, probably. If he got around to it.</p><p> </p><p>Every question but one: "First to five losses buys the other ice cream?"</p><p> </p><p>Crooked grin. Curved eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yer on."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They settled into an easy gait as Osamu led the way through the city streets. Instead of the typical silence they had, Suna found himself chatting. About work, about siblings, about stupid memories. All just to see a fraction of Osamu's smile.</p><p> </p><p>The open streets gave way to an entrance — a covered market with a large roof casting darkness on the walkway below. They entered and Suna's immediately hit with a thousand smells from the bustling vendors and eateries within.</p><p> </p><p>A warm hand met his wrist. He glanced up to see Osamu looking at him expectantly. His lips were quirked in a faint smile that invited him to follow.</p><p> </p><p>They stop in front of a food stall — all gleaming metal and blaring bubblegum pink. Rows of ice cream vats and chalkboard signs sat on one side of the stand, a counter with several crepe makers on the other.</p><p> </p><p>"They make the best crepes in the neighborhood."</p><p> </p><p>"That's what you said about the karaage." Suna bumped him in the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>"And I was right, no?" Osamu grinned as Suna gave a hesitant nod. "Only the best for ya, Rin."</p><p> </p><p>A rush of heat burned across his cheeks. <em> Rin? </em></p><p> </p><p>Osamu ordered for both of them — terribly decadent chocolate hazelnut ice cream for himself and vibrant matcha with huge chunks of strawberry for Suna. </p><p> </p><p>His wrist is grabbed again, and he's led beyond the market to a playground — abandoned in the many hours since sundown. They settled into a bench, shoulders brushing as they dug into their crepes.</p><p> </p><p>"I think you're onto something." Suna mumbled after taking a monstrous bite. The sting of cold felt good on his teeth. "This is pretty damn delicious."</p><p> </p><p>To his left, Osamu took slow and small bites — eyes drifting closed as he savored the flavor. His smile was content and entirely at peace.</p><p> </p><p>He's changed so much since high school. Grown and matured — mentally and physically. Yet, there's still something so boyish, so familiar in his actions. This isn’t the same shithead he had a fleeting crush on back in high school. Osamu was that and more.</p><p> </p><p>Suna’s fingers fiddled with the now-empty paper of the crepe as Osamu munched on one of the pocky sticks once shoved into his crepe.</p><p> </p><p>They played the pocky game once in high school. A risky training camp game of truth or dare. Kosaku dared Osamu to play it with someone, and he picked Suna. He didn’t worry about the why of it all, the options were slim and Suna was neither Osamu’s twin nor did he have a mouth full of metal. </p><p> </p><p>Osamu’s face had gone beet red as they stared at each other — his grey eyes were uncharacteristically wide and so close that Suna could almost count the flecks of gold. “Don’t be nervous.” Suna had whispered around the stick between his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>He’d been the one to pull back — getting just close enough that their noses brushed before he bit down. “Thanks.” Osamu mumbled, still looking shell shocked. </p><p> </p><p>Suna won't lie and say he didn't want to kiss Osamu back then. But not if the feeling wasn't mutual.</p><p> </p><p>"This is nice." Osamu said, finishing off the last stick.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, it was delicious." </p><p> </p><p>"Nah, not that. This." Osamu made a grand gesture. "Spendin' time with ya."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh." He made a tiny tear in the wrapper as he fiddled.</p><p> </p><p>"It's been a long time. I wish we hadn't grown apart."</p><p> </p><p>"Osamu. You called me your best friend earlier." Suna felt his brows knit together. "You actually liked me?"</p><p> </p><p>Osamu's face shifted into confusion. "Yeah? We hung out all the time."</p><p> </p><p>"Enough to be your <em> best friend?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Rin." Osamu sighed, but his demeanor was still light. He wasn't hurt. "Ya were my <em> only </em> friend."</p><p> </p><p>“No, I wasn’t. Aran, Gin, the whole team. They were all your friends.”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged. “Maybe what I’m tryna say is, ya were <em> my </em>friend. Not Atsumu’s.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Suna remembered Osamu in high school, slouching against the wall and minding his business. It was always his brother who was the catalyst of his socialization — provoking Gin or orchestrating their schemes. Osamu was always a willing participant, it’d be lying to say he was innocent. But away from his brother, he was quiet and drawn into himself.</p><p> </p><p>Yet with Suna he always seemed comfortable. Relaxed.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we weren’t really friends.” Osamu leaned his head back, exhaling a sigh. “Maybe I dunno what bein' a friend actually means. Yer confusin' me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Osamu.” Suna pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead. “I wanted to be your friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Osamu tilted his head, meeting his eye and scrunching his nose. The gears were clearly turning in his head. “Then, why are ya actin' like we weren't?"</p><p> </p><p>“I…” Suna wasn’t sure what to say. “I thought you didn’t want to be. It’s why I never talked to you after graduation.”</p><p> </p><p>Near the end of third year, Osamu started acting weird. He still shared a class with Suna, but spent most of the time staring out the window. He barely read any of the notes Suna passed him. He walked home from practice with Atsumu instead. Their interactions became few and far between. And after he stopped attending practice in early March, he'd all but vanished from Suna's life.</p><p> </p><p>He missed Osamu. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” Osamu laughed. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” Suna pushed him on the shoulder, grinning as Osamu swayed. “What’s your excuse? Phones work both ways, idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm.” Osamu steadied himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way but… I… I wasn’t sure how okay I was<em> just </em> bein’ yer friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.” Osamu smiled bitterly, staring down at the crepe wrapper in his own hands. “What I’m tryna say is, I had a crush on ya. I figured ya’d hate me if ya knew I liked guys too."</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly Osamu's bizarre behavior back in high school made sense. It wasn't that he hated Suna. Rather, the complete opposite.</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno if I should be offended that you thought I’d be a homophobe.” Suna sighed. “Or if I should kiss that stupid smile off your stupid face.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, ya know how teenage boys are, always making jo—” Osamu paused as his brain caught up to Suna’s words. “What.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had a crush on you, too.” </p><p> </p><p>Osamu’s ear blush had spread across his cheeks as he blinked. He always was slow to process. “Okay. Alright. Okay. Define ‘had’.”</p><p> </p><p>“High school, definitely.” Suna stroked his chin with his thumb as he thought. “Call it cliche but seeing you with your cheeks stuffed full of food with that dopey smile on your face. Cutest thing in the fucking world.”</p><p> </p><p>After graduation, their interactions continued to decrease until they were nothing but the watered-down bare minimum. Likes on instagram posts. Happy birthdays on facebook. Retweets on twitter. The occasional meeting at V. League games or after parties. </p><p> </p><p>The crush faded away as their proximity dwindled.</p><p> </p><p>He recalled what Osamu said.</p><p> </p><p>“You next.” Suna’s eyebrows scrunched. “Define ‘had’.”</p><p> </p><p>Osamu let out a breathy chuckle, probably bewildered by what Suna said. “High school for me, too. Ya were always aloof ‘n’ disinterested in the nonsense. Ya were so cool.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, what does that mean?” Suna bumped Osamu in the shoulder. “Is this where we admit our feelings are gone and we can be friends again — since we clearly fucked that up for stupid reasons? Or…”</p><p> </p><p>“Or…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Or do you want to… try?”</p><p> </p><p>Osamu chewed his bottom lip as he pondered his options. Suna wasn’t sure about his own feelings about the matter. </p><p> </p><p>Osamu was different, but he couldn’t pretend that difference wasn’t wildly attractive. The filled out shoulders and narrow waist. The dark hair that poked out beneath his black cap. The more relaxed demeanor from years of adult socialization.</p><p> </p><p>“Neither of us have been too good at thinkin.” Osamu mumbled. </p><p> </p><p>“Speak for yourself.” Suna laughed. “What are you trying to say?”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s not think.” Osamu dropped the crepe wrapper to the bench and faced Suna. A hand hovered in his periphery, Osamu’s eyes asking for silent permission. He nodded and fingers brushed against his jaw. “You said try, so let's try. We can think later.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” Suna whispered as Osamu leaned in.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu’s lips were sweet as they pressed against his — tasting of chocolate and hazelnut and the underlying flavor of beer, fried chicken, and cigarettes which he opted not to dwell on. Their bottom lips stuck together for a split second as they parted — sticky from ice cream.</p><p> </p><p>He released Osamu’s shirt from his grasp and met his eye. Stormy grey that sparkled with something terribly warm — a feeling somehow mirrored in Suna’s gut.</p><p> </p><p>“Well?” Someone whispered as they rested their foreheads together. He wasn’t sure if it was him or Osamu. Or maybe it was a figment of his imagination. All he knew is he wanted to do that again.</p><p> </p><p>So did Osamu.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t need words to know.</p><p> </p><p>“Osamu.” His hand brushed against Osamu’s waist, pulling him ever so closer. An exhale, before they met again. Lips languidly gliding in a way he dreamed about throughout high school — yet a million times better than those fantasies. He sank his teeth into the flesh of Osamu’s bottom lip as his tongue lapped up the last of the sugary taste. </p><p> </p><p>A tiny moan slipping from someone’s throat — maybe it was his — jolted them from their kiss. A shared laugh as they realized where they were. He wasn’t about to makeout with Osamu in a public playground. Maybe they could’ve gotten away with it half a decade ago if they were just stupid teenagers but they were a little too late for that.</p><p> </p><p>Imagine where’d they be if they’d said something sooner.</p><p> </p><p>“I know y’all got a hotel but…” Osamu whispered. “Stay with me?”</p><p> </p><p>Suna pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of Osamu’s mouth. “Only if you drive me to my hotel before check out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Darlin’, I’d drive ya back to Nagano if ya fuckin’ wanted me to.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughed. “I might just take you up on that offer.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Rin. Rin.” Osamu exhaled between kisses as he dug in his pocket for his apartment keys. Suna pinned him against the front door — his knee pressing hard. “Stop for a sec.”</p><p> </p><p>Suna relented, laughing as he took a step back.</p><p> </p><p>They were barely in the genkan before Suna was fumbling with the hem of Osamu's shirt, running his fingers along his soft flank as he pulled up. Faint thumps echo throughout the front hallway as Osamu tries to find the light switch.</p><p> </p><p>A gasp for air as the lights in the apartment flickered on. Suna pulled the shirt up over Osamu's head, flung it across the room, and dove back into Osamu's lips. </p><p> </p><p>A groan. It wasn't him. It didn't sound like Osamu, either.</p><p> </p><p>"Hhnng, Samu. Turn that shit off. M'tryna sleep." A sleepy mumble from somewhere in the living room. Atsumu.</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck." Osamu whispered into Suna's mouth. "I didn't know he was stayin' over."</p><p> </p><p>Suna laughed, as quietly as he could manage. "Raincheck?"</p><p> </p><p>Osamu smiled as he flicked the light switch, shrouding the apartment in darkness once more. "Raincheck."</p><p> </p><p>They broke apart, trying their hardest not to laugh too loud. Osamu's hand slipped into his own and he was tugged deeper into the apartment.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, aho." Osamu called as Suna slipped into the bedroom behind him. "I want ya outta here at 7:45. This ain't a fuckin' bed 'n' breakfast either. Yer feedin' yerself in the morning."</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck off." Atsumu mumbled.</p><p> </p><p>Suna sat on the edge of the bed as Osamu closed the door behind him. "Sorry about him."</p><p> </p><p>"It's fine, Samu." He outstretched his hand for Osamu to grasp and pulled him between his legs. Osamu's eyes were peaceful as he pressed a tiny kiss in the corner of his mouth. "Let's go to sleep."</p><p> </p><p>"We really should shower. And I got some clothes for ya." Suna tugged harder, pulling Osamu on top of him as his back hit the mattress.</p><p> </p><p>"Shh." He tucked Osamu's head close to his chest, gently running his fingers through soft dark locks. "I thought we agreed not to think."</p><p> </p><p>"Right." Osamu whispered into his chest. "Thinking can come later."</p><p> </p><p>"Goodnight, Osamu." A kiss on the forehead.</p><p> </p><p>"Goodnight, Rin."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading as always~</p><p>Find me on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/andraste_/status/1348521613428285445">@andraste_</a></p><p>Title from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMKfG8SV1K8">Grand Canyon by Mat Kearney</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>